Chapter 3 THE MASKED STRANGER

The palace halls felt quieter than usual. Celestine noticed it the second she stepped out of her room. A weird stillness hung in the air, like the walls were holding their breath, waiting for something. The normal morning buzz-the servants' chatter, the faint hum of laughter or music-was gone. She tugged the silk robe tighter around her shoulders. It was soft, but it weighed on her, a constant nudge that this fancy life wasn't her choice. The golden shackles on her wrists glinted in the weak morning light. She'd gotten used to them, sort of, but they never let her forget what she was-trapped.

Her bare feet hit the cold marble as she started down the long hallway. She didn't know where she was headed, just that something was pulling her, like a thread tugging at her gut. Last night kept replaying in her head-Lucien's heavy stare, that old book buzzing with something wild, and the scared, knowing look in Alina's eyes. Not like the others. Those words stuck with her, gnawing at her thoughts. She hit the big spiral staircase, its golden rails twisted up like vines climbing toward the ceiling. Down below, the foyer sprawled out-huge windows letting in soft gold light that spilled across the black-and-white tiles. A few servants shuffled around, quiet as ghosts, their faces blank like they'd been told to keep their mouths shut. But something wasn't right. She could feel it deep down, a shiver in her bones. Someone-or something-was here. Her heart picked up speed. Then she spotted him. A guy stood by the front doors, dressed in dark blue and black, a hood hiding most of his face. She could just make out the sharp cut of his jaw, the easy way he stood, like he owned the place. He didn't fit here. But he didn't seem to give a damn. Celestine took a step closer, her chains jingling soft with the move. The guy's head tilted up a bit, like he felt her there before she even opened her mouth. The air got thick, heavy between them. He felt... familiar. But that didn't make sense. She'd never laid eyes on him. Had she? Before she could say a word, Lucien's voice sliced through the quiet, sharp as a knife. "You shouldn't be here." She turned and saw him coming down the stairs, his long coat flaring out behind him. His face gave nothing away, but the air crackled with tension. The stranger didn't budge. "I came for what's mine," he said, his voice smooth, steady. A chill ran through her. There was something off about how he talked-something that poked at a corner of her mind, a memory she couldn't grab hold of. Lucien's mouth twisted into a thin, cold smile. "Nothing here's yours." A beat of silence. Then the stranger tipped his head up, just enough for her to catch his eyes. Silver. Deep and strange, like nothing human. Her breath hitched. She knew those eyes. But how? Lucien stepped closer, his presence filling the room. "Get out," he said, hard and final. The stranger let out a slow breath, like he was weighing his options. Then, without another word, he turned and headed for the doors. The guards froze, unsure, but didn't stop him. Her pulse pounded loud in her ears. She wanted to yell, to demand he tell her who he was. But the way Lucien was looking at her stopped her cold. He was watching her too hard. Like he could hear her thoughts. Like he was daring her to open her mouth. The big doors swung wide, and just before he stepped out, the stranger paused. He glanced back at her, just for a second. Then he was gone. The doors slammed shut, the sound bouncing off the walls like a warning shot. Quiet stretched out between her and Lucien. Then, without even glancing her way, he said, "Forget you saw him." Her fists clenched tight. But she couldn't. Because deep down, in a place she couldn't explain, she knew... She'd seen him before.